


Swordplay

by auriadne



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, Injury, Light Angst, M/M, PWP, incredibly silly premise, less ridiculous irl, sylvix - Freeform, two dudes not knowing how to deal with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 02:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20557076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auriadne/pseuds/auriadne
Summary: Felix gets injured in battle, and Sylvain (as best bros do) offers to help him get off.





	Swordplay

**Author's Note:**

> fire emblem owns my heart and soul atm.

“Are you trying to break your other arm too?”

Felix’s sword curves hard in the right side of the training dummy, lodging itself in the stuffed hay.

_“No.”_

He barely registers Sylvain’s question and continues at his task. The sword hits again with a shoot of pain up his forearm. Felix ignores the strain put unnaturally on his less used wrist.

“Doesn’t seem like it. If I recall, Manuela sentenced you to rest. No training allowed.”

“That’s idiotic.”

Unrealistic, even. He can’t sit idly by waiting for his body to mend, nor can he ignore the time it would waste. He wasted so much of it when his brother was still alive. It’s not training for training’s sake anymore. There is a solace in his endless pursuit of strength.

Sylvain found his in women and shallow relationships. Felix found his at the end of a blade.

“Is it?”

Felix lands a few more strikes. His teeth grit, eyes narrowed in focus and frustration at the lack of his normal finesse.

“C’mon, Felix. It won’t kill you to take a break once in a while. Or maybe it would- I don’t think I’ve seen you go a day without a sword in your hand.”

“Leave me alone, Sylvain.”

“I can’t do that, and you know it.”

He scoffs, dropping his arm to his side. He turns finally to face where Sylvain watches him.

“What do you want?”

“Am I not allowed to check in on my injured friend?” He says it so casually in that insincere, playboy tone that sets his teeth on edge. His smile falls at Felix’s severe expression, eyes darkening with rare honesty. “Don’t think I didn’t see what you did out there.”

Throwing himself in the enemy’s path so they would target him instead of Sylvain. It’d been an easy decision in the moment. One that he’s paying for sorely. Though given a second chance, he wouldn’t act any different. 

“I did nothing.”

“Lying doesn’t suit you. Take it from a pro.” His tongue is heavy, and he shifts his eyes from Sylvain lest they give away more of his secrets. Sylvain sighs, shaking his head against his hand. “You don’t have to save me. I’m no damsel.”

“Hypocrite. You’d do the same in my place.”

Sylvain laughs in somber realization. “I would, wouldn’t I?”

Deep down, they’re more alike than Felix would care to admit. Raised in similar households, bearing too much responsibility for their age, jaded into cynicism by things outside their control. Too ready to make rash decisions for the sake of each other. For the sake of a friendship, Felix barely acknowledged for a long time.

“Save me the worry, at least for a few days. I don’t want to see you make yourself worse, or would you rather me get the Professor over this?”

“Don’t you dare.”

His room is already stuffed full of daffodils and sunflowers, filling it with a sweet scent he’s grown too accustomed to.

“That bad, huh?” Sylvain smiles- it’s a genuine one- as his hand brushes Felix’s shoulder. It’s a tender gesture, and it’s startling how rare that kind of contact is to him. “Just… take it into consideration. Okay, Felix?”

* * *

Felix learns that sword practice isn’t the only thing that becomes much more difficult with one good hand, but a myriad of daily tasks he hardly gave a second thought to before.

He stares at himself in the fogged over mirror of the bath house. Wet strands of hair plaster across his forehead, as he struggles to pull it up and out of his way. Its times like these that he wishes he could chop it all off, take some scissors and be done with it. How many times had he been told to cut his hair over the years? The thing those people never realized- is that if he did, he’d look far too much like Glenn.

He lets out an exasperated sound.

“Here, let me help.”

He’d been too caught up in his own problems that he didn’t even notice the flash of red reflected back until Sylvain was already next to him.

“I don’t-“ Sylvain ignores his protest, snatching the tie from his hand. His fingers card through the sides of his hair, pulling the longer strands back- neater than he ever bothers with.

Felix frowns.

“Don’t make that face.” He chides and leans forward. The brush of Sylvain’s chest against his bare back makes him tense up when he tugs some hair loose from his bangs. They fall messy in front of his eyes. The way he prefers.

Felix thinks that’s it- that now Sylvain will leave him be, but he doesn’t let up. Sylvain is looking at him in the mirror, his palms pressed to Felix’s shoulders. For a brief second, their eyes meet in the reflection, and he immediately tears them away to the floor, his hands. Anywhere but there.

“You didn’t need to do that.“ Felix mumbles. For once, he’s grateful of the excuse the steam gives him.

“I’ll take that as a thanks.” His thumbs dig into his muscle, rubbing in a circular motion. “You’re awfully tense, you know.”

He hisses a breath_. _

_“You don’t say.”_

Of course, he’s fucking tense. He can’t train. He can’t tie his hair up, and now Sylvain has the gall to be touchy with him while they’re both in nothing but towels, and during the whole conversation, Sylvain’s hands haven’t left him once.

Felix knows he should shove him away. Chastise Sylvain for acting this way around him. It’s not the kind of thing Sylvain thinks about. He’s casually affectionate with girls and friends alike- but for Felix… at the very least, it throws him off kilter to have someone this close that isn’t trying to kill him.

“You need to clear your mind. Get rid of some of that stress.”

“I’m fine.” He insists, finally deciding to push Sylvain away to give him some breathing room.

“You’re not fine.”

“What do you care?”

“I feel somewhat responsible, and you’re my friend, Felix. Even if you don’t always think so.” Sylvain’s mouth pulls tight- contemplative- plunging them into silence for only a moment. Felix wishes it lasted longer. “I’m willing to help. Stress relief, that is.”

_He can’t be-_

“You’re not ambidextrous. Watching you fumble around with that sword was confirmation, enough. Your left hand can’t be that good.”

_Goddess, he is._

“What?” Felix gapes, dumbfounded. Part of him thinks he misheard. The other knows he definitely heard it right.

What is Sylvain thinking? Saying something- no, suggesting something like this to _him?_

Sylvain looks around confirming that they are alone, and then makes a crude gesture.

Felix stares at him blankly.

“Come on. You’re going to make me-“ Sylvain groans. “You know, jerk off. Blow your load. Whatever, you want to call it.”

“I don’t want to call it anything. I can’t believe you’re-“ Actually, it’s almost worse that he can believe it. Yet it doesn’t make looking at Sylvain any easier, especially with the new thoughts that absolute, insufferable idiot has embedded in his mind.

Sylvain’s mouth opens, but Felix cuts him off in a breath. “Shh. Shut up. Sylvain, do you even hear yourself, right now?” His eyes squeeze shut, and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I do. You know I’d help you with anything if you asked.”

“Are you insane?”

“Aren’t we all? A little? Thought I’d extend the offer. You seem more pent up lately, and well, loosening up might do you some good, eh, Felix? You can think about it. It’s a friendly gesture that’s all.”

Hardly a friendly gesture offering to grab his dick.

“Don’t get your hopes up. Find some village girl if you want to get off.”

It’s his biting last remark. He’s always made a habit of getting the last word in. This time, though, his untimely exit feels too much like running away with how eager he is to be rid of this conversation and the strange light it cast on his and Sylvain’s relationship.

The door closes behind him, quickly and much to his relief, so that he doesn’t hear Sylvain say,

_“This isn’t for me.”_

* * *

It’s near two in the morning when Felix finds himself standing outside Sylvain’s door. He can’t sleep. The bone where mended under Manuela’s magic aches in a deep phantom pain. She told him that it would go away, that it’s the remnants of the injury catching up with his body, but its unsettling and annoying nonetheless.

Felix knocks once before chastising himself, turning to leave.

He makes it two steps when he hears- “Wait.” Whispered in a hushed tone. Sylvain grabs his good arm and swings him around.

Felix’s face burns.

Sylvain’s hair is a mess- he must have been asleep- falling messy over his eyes. His hand brushes it back, revealing the shock that widens his eyes underneath. It turns his stomach in knots.

He’s such an idiot for coming here. Why would Sylvain ever seriously suggest-

“It’s nothing. I’m going.”

Sylvain’s grip tightens on his arm when he tries to yank it away. “You don’t have to leave. It’s okay.” Its soft, reassuring. Not at all like the Sylvain he sees in the daylight hours.

Felix doesn’t know what to say- what compelled him to stand in front of Sylvain’s room in the middle of the night. Well, he knows one reason, but there’s more to it than that.

“You offered.” He says, the strain in his words barely masked.

“I did. I’m not a liar, Felix.” He rolls his eyes. “Not to you, anyways. Come on.”

The tension that fills the room when the door closes is thick as fog. Felix swallows, throat dry. He’s never been one for nerves, and it irritates him to no end, that it is _now_ they get to him.

He distracts himself from the heat, from the overthinking, looking over a room he’s been in many times before. It’s neat. Felix thinks it’s only this way because Sylvain doesn’t spend much time here, and even if he did, Ingrid would chew him out for not being tidy. Felix has received that lecture many times before.

His hand traces across the page of an open book on his desk, the paper next to it covered in a half scrawl of unfinished work. The dim lighting makes the text unreadable.

Sylvain shifts on his feet. “You won’t look at me. Is it that embarrassing?”

It’s not embarrassment that keeps him from meeting Sylvain’s gaze. It’s fear. That if he looks too hard, he’ll see something he doesn’t want to see. Feel something he doesn’t want to feel.

“Don’t ask such stupid questions.”

“Fine. Fine. I get it, Felix.” He hears the bed creak under Sylvain’s weight. He pats it, urging Felix to join him. “Turn off the light, if that makes you more comfortable.”

He doesn’t think it will, but does it anyway.

Felix slides back against the rumpled sheets, nestled in the spot between Sylvain’s thighs. His back hits his chest as they adjust to the position in silence. Sylvain’s heartbeat is steady, relaxed against him, yet Felix’s is anything but.

Sylvain doesn’t waste time, tugging at the buttons of his trousers. His hand is slick- Felix didn’t even notice when he did that- warm, and bigger than his own as it wraps around his cock, coaxing him slowly to arousal. Sylvain’s face buries in the back of his loose, linen shirt. Breath ghosting hot through the fabric against his skin.

He shudders slightly in a sharp breath at the sensation.

“You okay?” Sylvain asks, unnecessarily.

He doesn’t want to talk right now. Not when Sylvain is stroking him slowly, like this is something so comfortable and tender. Not when he’s making heat pool fast in the depths of his body, rising to his skin in a flush of red the moonlight hides.

“I’m fine.” Felix lies.

“You always say that.” Sylvain hums. He knows it isn’t the truth in the same way Felix sees right through those fake smiles Sylvain uses to get through each day.

Felix’s shoulders stiffen, hunched in on his self under the steady rhythm of his friend’s hand, pumping the curve of his cock now hard and slick. His pace quickens, and desperation wells in his body. It’s carefully restrained only escaping in the occasional soft sound and the stutter of hips as he cants into the touch.

He hates to admit it, but Sylvain was right. This is better.

Lips brush the nape of his neck, light enough that he thinks he imagined it. He almost wishes he did. Its selfish of him, allowing Sylvain to treat him like this- no better than the women who seek him out for his status and Crest.

Being so intimate yet skirting around actual intimacy. Like Sylvain has always done.

Felix knows he deserves better.

Sylvain’s hand twists, thumbing over the head of his dick, squeezing him in a way that makes him jump. He muffles a strangled sound into the back of his hand. The last thing he needs is Dimitri getting any inkling of what’s going on between them.

Because of course, Sylvain is good with his hands.

It doesn’t escape his notice at the sudden movement that Sylvain his hard too, shifting back on the sheets so Felix doesn’t notice. It’s too late for that, and he moves back with him, bumping up against his erection intentionally.

“Fe-“

“Don’t.” He shushes him, pressing himself flush to Sylvain.

He rocks back, and Sylvain’s arm wraps around his waist pulling him in. Their legs bump clumsily into each other. He gasps in a warm breath against his ear. It makes him shiver.

“Mmph. Felix. Please.”

Hearing his name like that, whispered in his ear with such torn desire, it’s too much. His eyes squeeze shut, teeth tearing at his lips as he spills over, warm between Sylvain’s fingers.

Sylvain’s hand stills, wet with come, and twists itself in Felix’s shirt. Grabbing onto him like his life depends on it, forehead burrowed in the crook of his neck while he ruts into him. Felix helps him. It’s only fair- quid pro quo.

Though the notion is disingenuous with the emotional baggage between them. With the tug Felix surely feels that has the stirrings of regret smoldering in the back of his mind.

It’s not simple. Not easy. Not a friendly gesture meant to ‘loosen him up’.

Not to him, at least.

Sylvain’s arms tighten around him, coming with a quiet breath.

Felix maintains the silence- trying to empty his head of intrusive thoughts. That he made a stupid decision. That come morning when the lingering orgasm has faded, he’ll feel regret.

Would Sylvain even bring it up? Or is this some one-off occurrence- a product of pity and whatever fucked up form of friendship they shared. The thought disgusts him, but not as much as himself- how in this moment, no matter how shallow the reason, he would gladly take this.

They sit in the quiet darkness of Sylvain’s room for a few minutes before Felix extracts himself from his hold, adjusting his clothes to something decent.

Sylvain looks at him. Felix can barely make out the expression on his face.

“You can stay, you know.”

Felix’s jaw goes tight.

“We’re not kids anymore. I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

_“Felix.”_

Its strange how disappointed Sylvain manages to sound.

**Author's Note:**

> Felix falls asleep in his own bed, waking to dreams of one of his few friends.
> 
> ...  
  
hmu on [ tumblr ](https://auriadne.tumblr.com/)  
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